


heartache i've heard is part of life

by picketfences (OnyxSphinx)



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, buckle up we're addressing the issues canon ignored re: ben and caleb's relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/picketfences
Summary: “We know each other,” Ben protests, feebly.Caleb laughs. “No. No we don’t. And Ben—God.” He looks away. “It kills me to say it, but you’ve been treating me like shite the last two years. Pushing me away, and distrusting me—we used to be so close. What happened?”His words dry up in his throat. “Is—is that what you think?” he croaks.“Aye. I’m sorry, Tallboy, but I can’t. Not anymore.”
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	heartache i've heard is part of life

The war’s been over for a week when Ben finally works up the courage to ask Caleb to his quarters. 

The inn they’re staying in is large and warm and well-furnished; and Ben's room has a large bed. It also has a full desk, but in this case it’s the bed he cares about the most. 

Caleb slips into the room behind him like a ghost; silent and quick; and they stand there awkwardly for a moment before Ben says “I'd like to take you to bed” just as Caleb says “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no.”

Ben reels. “What?” he says. “Caleb, all this time fighting, we haven’t had a moment to ourselves—“

“Exactly. And we’re practically strangers because of it,” Caleb points out; softly, too softly. It’s like he’s afraid of—of Ben. “When’s the last time you remember knowing each other?”

“We know each other,” Ben protests, feebly. 

Caleb laughs. “No. No we don’t. And Ben—God.” He looks away. “It kills me to say it, but you’ve been treating me like shite the last two years. Pushing me away, and distrusting me—we used to be so close. What happened?”

His words dry up in his throat. “Is—is that what you think?” he croaks. 

“Aye. I’m sorry, Tallboy, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

He turns; hand on the door; hesitant, as if waiting for Ben to say something; but he’s got nothing to say; and so a moment later the door creaks shut, leaving Ben alone. 

He lays himself down in the large, empty bed and tries to go to sleep. 

The next morning, Caleb is gone; no note to explain his absence. When he asks, all they can tell him is that Caleb resigned his post and was headed to the coast.

* * *

Ben travels to Setauket to see Abe and Anna. He tries not to feel hollow about the emptiness at his side; the lack of another horse. He succeeds, mostly

Anna throws the door wide open the instant she sees him. “Ben!” she exclaims; and launches herself into his embrace; buries her face in his neck; muffled: “we didn’t know when we’d see you again.” And then: “Where’s...?”

“I don't know,” Ben replies; willing his voice not to crack. He succeeds, mostly. 

“Oh.” Anna’s voice is soft; and she pulls back; assessing him. “Why don’t you come in? Have a cup of tea?”

Ben bites back a retort about how tea is what got them into this mess in the first place; and just says, “sure,” and follows after her. 

The parlour is larger than anywhere Ben has been in a long while; and he feels antsy as he sits; too much empty space, too much room for someone to sneak up on him. He takes the chair closest to the wall and sits facing the doorway, back to the wall, nearly touching. 

The tea is hot; burns on the way down; but he swallows anyway. Anna looks him over; worried. “There’s something you’re not telling me. about Caleb,” she clarifies. “He wouldn’t just up and leave you.”

_ You don’t know that _ , he bites back; but she’s right. He sighs. “He said we were practically strangers,” he mutters. “And...i’m starting to think he was right. I can’t remember the last time—” he cuts himself off.  _ The last time we knew each other like our souls were one and the same _ , he means. He bows his head and stares into the cup in his hands.

“Oh, ben,” anna murmurs; and they sit there for a long while in silence. Finally, Ben drains the last of the tea and rises. “I should go.”

Anna makes a token protest; but in the end his mind is made up. He skips visiting Abe; rides hard back to the inn; and when he dismounts he tries not to shake as hard as his horse is. He succeeds, mostly. 

That night, he writes the first letter; posts it to Abe, addresses it to Caleb. It’s a long shot, he knows—Caleb probably won’t stop there any time soon, might not stop there ever; but there’s a catharsis in writing at all.

* * *

October 1783

_ Caleb, _

_ I know you’ll probably never read this, but I have to put it down somehow; and writing’s as good a way as any. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you’re right. I treated you horribly in the last few years—since your uncle died, practically. I’ve been an ass to you—no, I’ve been worse than; I’ve ignored you and belittled you and dismissed you and distrusted you. I’m so, so sorry. You don’t have to forgive me; I just needed to apologise. _

_ Your one-time friend, _

_ Ben _

* * *

February 1786

_ Caleb, _

_ I can’t believe how callous I was towards you after we rescued you from Simcoe. I should have been there for you, comforted you; but instead all I could think about was the Ring. My friend, my oldest, closest confidant, my—I hesitate to put it into writing, but you know the word that goes here—was hurting, and all I could do was blame him and disparage him. I’m so, so sorry. Please do not forgive me; I do not deserve it; but you deserve the apology. It’s the least I can give you. _

_ Your former confidant, _

_ Ben _

* * *

June 1791

_ Caleb, _

_ Forgive me this letter; for where it ought to be filled with apologies, all I can find in myself to write is the events of the day.  _

_ Today I went berry-picking; the weather has been wonderful, and the cottage I purchased a few months ago has a lovely patch of blackberries in the back. I’ve found myself a taste for them, and so, when I finally completed the last draft for a proposal to congress regarding a stipend for veterans of the war, I decided I ought to go out and pick some properly. _

_ By the end of the day, I had gotten covered in mud, and filled three large pails full of the wonderful berries; tomorrow, I think, I shall enquire about town as to how to turn them into jam, for I’m afraid that, alone, I shall not be able to eat them before they rot. _

_ Your fellow citizen, _

_ Ben _

* * *

He’s in the middle of making himself breakfast when there’s a knock on the door. “Just a moment!” he calls; giving the eggs a stir with the wooden spoon, and makes his way over to the door; pulling it open. 

There, in the late evening summer light, stands a man he’d never thought he’d see again: Caleb Brewster, reddened, panting slightly, hair windswept, brow shiny with perspiration. “Can I come in?” he asks; voice confident; moreso than Ben remembers it being last time they spoke. It does him a world of good.

“Of course,” Ben says; and opens the door wider so the other can come in. He leads him to the kitchen; offers him a glass of water, which Caleb waves off; and then a glass of whiskey, which Caleb accepts with a crooked smile. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Caleb observes. “It must have cost you a pretty penny.”

“It did.” After the war, he didn’t have much money; saved up enough to make end’s meet by working odd jobs around the town, and made an arrangement to pay off the money he owes on the cottage in monthly instalments. It’s a bit easier now that he’s got a job as the postmaster. 

They sit there in silence for a few moments before Ben says, “You may as well tell me why you’re here, since I know it’s not for the company.”

Caleb’s lips quirk. “Always a perceptive one, weren’t you, Ben?”

Ben shrugs. “Not as much as I thought, apparently.”

It hangs between them; the silent acknowledgement; and finally, Caleb sighs, and says, “I got your letters.”

“Oh.” 

It’s all that Ben can say; shocked as he is; and in a flash, Caleb pulls out a bundle of papers from his satchel; held together by a piece of twine. “Just last week,” he says. “Mary was glad t’ finally get rid of them—you wrote so many they were starting to be a bother.” 

“Oh,” he says, again; and then: “I’m sorry. I never thought you’d read them. I never meant—”

“If you tell me you never meant anything you wrote in there, then I’m going to be mighty upset.”

Ben gives a half-hysterical laugh. “No. I meant every word. I’m just sorry that you came all this way. I never meant to...to make it seem like I expected anything more from you.”

Caleb exhales sharply. “Oh,” he says; and takes a long pull from his glass. Finally, he says, “It’s getting late, I should go.”

“Stay,” Ben says; impulsively. “Just for dinner. And, and—for the night, if you’d like. That way you don’t have to try and find an inn. I have a spare room I can ready for you. I know you probably still hate me, but please, just stay. I want to talk, to—to—”

Caleb cuts him off. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “I mean, I did for a while, but not anymore. Now I’m just...confused.” He licks his lips; tosses the bundle of letters onto the table. “This is what someone who’s still in love does. This is what married men on my ships wait for—piles and piles of letters from their wives who miss them.”

Unable to do anything else, Ben shrugs helplessly. “Your point?”

“And my point is—my point is...” he draws a ragged breath. “I don’t know what to do. And I still can’t read you. And there’s still a part of me that loves you, even now, but I can’t let you break me again, because I might not make it out alive if you do.”

Ben swallows. “A part of me still loves you,” he admits. “But I—I know that you’re different now, and I’m different to. But, honestly, seeing you, there’s a part of me that wants this, this new me to fall in love with the new you, because no matter what, I still can’t stop missing you. And that’s the truth, all of it.”

“Oh.”

“So...yeah.” He shrugs again.

Caleb stays silent for a long,long time, and then he says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll stay the night. And then come morning, we can talk about it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ben closes his eyes; blinking back phantom tears. “Thank you.”

“Don’t go all soft on me, Tallboy,” Caleb says, gruffly, but he reaches out and places his hand over Ben’s; comforting.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [major-721](https://major-721.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
